the truth is the same everywhere
by perceptionisreality
Summary: Kristoph Gavin couldn't hide from everyone. Especially not the Great Thief Yatagarasu. fixed the formatting i am so so sorry!


_Gavin Law Offices, May 2019_

Kristoph Gavin is a meticulous man, especially with his security. He has everything figured out, down to the last detail, in a calculated, impersonal fashion. But no one is perfect, not even the so-called "coolest defense in the west". No security system is perfect, either.

She slips into his office one night, after carefully disabling his not actually that complex security system. Really, she expected better. It was a little disappointing. She did have to hand it to him about the alarms on the windows, though. There were CEOs offices she'd gotten into that didn't even think of that.

Despite the fact that she toted herself as a thief of the truth, she wasn't actually going to do any thieving tonight. No, she was just going to throw the name of the Yatagarasu around a little.

Leather-and-nylon gloves securely fitted over her hands, she starts picking through his files. Each file on every single one of his cases is kept extremely organized. From beginning to end, there's no detail he doesn't put in. But there's one exception.

Pulling out a file that's partially hidden by the others, she knows she's struck gold when she sees that it's unfinished. The title of the first page reads "_State vs. Gramarye_" and the rest of it is full of accompanying pictures and notes until its abrupt end in hastily-written and angry script.

Kay sets it down on the defense attorney's desk, leaving it open to a page that documents a picture and the details of Magnifi Gramarye's journal. From her pocket, she procures a Yatagarasu card, placing it squarely on top of the binding.

Sure, she won't be the one that finds out the truth this time, but she'll at least have her fun.

She carefully steps up onto his windowsill and out of the window onto a small ledge. "I sure hope Mr. Wright figures this all out," she murmurs, reaching behind her to shut the window softly.

Her feet leave the ledge as she jumps down the short distance to the building next door. But she doesn't go home, not yet. She has a note to deliver, first.

In the morning, the older Gavin brother unlocks his office and disables the security alarm, unaware of what has taken place in his office. He strips off his outer jacket to hang it up, and even reads through his mail before he makes it to his desk. There's a note slipped between his bills with only one sentence on it, a quote that he recognizes—"How can one be well…when one suffers morally?" from War and Peace.

How strange, he thinks. A well-read prankster, he dismisses.

However, when he notices the card, he drops his briefcase onto the floor.

His hand tenses up, revealing the outline of the devil's face as he adjusts his glasses. He says nothing as he picks it up. As soon as he flips it over, his expression twists from his usual composure to one of contained anger.

In clearly printed letters, just like on the note, the back of the card reads:

_Oh, dear, Mr. Gavin, whatever shall you do?_

_The Yatagarasu is coming for you._

He crushes the card in his fist and slams it on the table.

_Los Angeles County Prison, October 2026, 7 Years Later_

When he leaves Kristoph's solitary cell, he's a bundle of frazzled nerves.

_He doesn't have the letter._

He has everything he taped with the camera, but he didn't manage to get the letter. Kristoph came back two seconds too early, and he just couldn't grab it. On that letter rests his case, and he's not sure that even with the footage, he could recreate that letter. If he doesn't get every word right, it won't hold up. Not to mention, Kristoph could destroy the original copy.

He has a phone call to make.

In one way, he's pretty glad that he doesn't look like his old self. It makes it a lot easier to be ignored; to make sure that no one's listening in. He dials a number that he hasn't used very often.

"You're reached Kay Faraday," the voice on the other line chirps.

Phoenix Wright walks right into a crowd of people at the same time that he says, "Yeah, Kay? I need a huge favor."

It's surprising, how much access one has to a prison once they get inside the gates.

Prison security is much like the security of any other place, just with many more human guards.

As much as Kristoph has his claws sunken into it and the legal profession as a whole, they're only so long.

Just like in his office back in 2019.

As soon as he's out for his break, Kay takes the guard on duty's place and his keys while she's at it. The other guards on duty are far too accepting of a new face. No one wants to get into a prison, after all. The thought that anyone would escapes them. But it doesn't matter—by the time they realize what's happened, she'll be long gone.

She walks with another guard to retrieve Kristoph Gavin from his cell for his mandatory hour in the yard without the other prisoners. Since he's not troublesome, she offers to close up the cell while the other guard takes him. The other guard, a man of considerable height and stature, readily agrees. He can handle the other man on his own, he explains.

Kristoph Gavin's eyes meet hers briefly.

While his smile is all politeness, his eyes are looking down on her.

But he's a smart man. He won't feel the same way once he figures it out.

The guard takes the former defense attorney away. As soon as they're out of sight, she makes her way into the cell. It's just as lavish as she had heard it was, and thanks to Kristoph being exceptionally methodical in his organizing even behind bars, she doesn't have a pile of scattered papers to sift through to find the letter. She pulls her gloves out of one pocket and slides them on. Time to get to work.

Picking up books and rifling through them, it doesn't take her long to find her target: a yellow envelope.

A grin spreads across her face. It's been far too long since the Yatagarasu had this type of impact in court, but today, that changes. Maybe it's strange to be sentimental in the middle of a job, but she has a good reason.

_This is for you, dad._

She holds onto the envelope in one hand and pulls out a Yatagarasu card out of the other. There's a number of places she could hide it in, but subtlety never suited her except when she needed to make an entrance or an escape. She turns to a specific page in Kristoph Gavin's copy of War and Peace.

Placing the Yatagarasu's card on top of the book, she uses it to underline a specific quote in the book.

The yellow envelope is slipped into her pocket, and she actually does close up the cell before she leaves. Has to make it look like nothing's happened, of course. She doesn't need to be discovered before he even reads the card.

It takes her approximately four minutes to tell the other guard on duty that she'll be on break, return the uniform and keys she borrowed, and escape the county prison with the yellow envelope in hand.

Now, all she has to do is deliver it.

When his hour of time is up, Kristoph is returned to his cell promptly. The guard tells him to have a good evening—polite, that one—before taking the cuffs off and locking him back in. He takes his time, getting back to his chair, and his book.

Until he notices that it's open. And there's a familiar card laying on it.

Immediately, the panic flares up. The card—that damned card—not again. Not now. Not after what just happened with Wright.

"The strongest of all warriors are these two—Time and Patience," he says aloud, voice uncharacteristically shaky.

He picks up the card and flips it over, noticing the same scrawled print as the last time.

_Mr. Gavin, Mr. Gavin, it's time to pay your dues._

_Didn't I say the Yatagarasu was coming for you?_

"No," he whispers, before frantically going through his books and checking all around his chair and table. It's no use; it's gone. The envelope is gone, along with any shred of safety he felt here.

The image of the guard whose green eyes met his in the hallway flashes in his mind. There's something about those eyes that he's seen before, forcing him to recall a very old memory.

He's in the gallery of a courtroom, watching a murder trial. On the defense's side is a man with a coffee mug in hand, spouting off profound-sounding quotes to the prosecutor across the way. His opponent takes it all in stride, looking friendlier than a prosecutor has the right to. Except his eyes; they're sharp, driven, and focused. He's heard of this prosecutor before, though. Not determined to get a guilty verdict, they say. Only interested in the truth, they say.

"Prosecutor Faraday, do you drink coffee?" the defense attorney inquires.

The prosecutor laughs. "I have to, to keep up with my little Kay," he responds.

The attorney looks pleased. "After all this is over, I'll have to introduce you to a blend of mine," he says.

What an idiot, he had thought, being so friendly with the opposition. If it were him up there, he would have gotten a not guilty already. There's no need to make friends in a court of law.

But that's not what sticks out to him the most in this memory. It's those eyes of that prosecutor, and now he knows why. They're the same as the guard's—different color, but the same fortitude.

_Only interested in the truth._

_That Faraday, they say he's only interested in the truth._

_Those that cannot be brought to court._

_"My little Kay,"_

_Faraday._

He starts to laugh, gradually getting louder until it echoes in his cell.

He doesn't even hear the guard yell at him to stop.

_Wright Anything Agency, October 2026_

She arrives at the front door of the Wright Anything Agency in record time. She barely had time to change clothes, but she managed to pull a pink zip-up hoodie over her black tank top and grab her scarf, as well as a Gatewater Land Bad Badger hat that she can pull down just enough to shadow her face. With her leggings and boots looking appropriate enough, she concludes that she doesn't look like she just stole something from a prison. Looks a bit like she's late to a Zumba class, but that's better than evidence-thief.

All it takes is a sharp few knocks at the door, and it opens to reveal one Apollo Justice, attorney at law. He looks her over once and seems adequately confused. "Can I help you? Do you need legal advice?" he asks.

Kay gives him a wide smile. "Nah, but I have a delivery. You're Apollo Justice, aren't you?"

Apollo furrows his eyebrows together and presses one finger to his forehead. _I see why Gavin gave him that nickname_, she thinks. "Well, alright…what is it?" he says after a pause.

"A little firebird told me that you needed some truth," she tells him, procuring the envelope from her pocket. She hands it over to him. As soon as he realizes what it is, his eyes go wide.

Trucy pops up next to him. "Polly, what is it?" she chirps. Once she catches sight of Kay, however, she gives a small smile and backs up behind Apollo.

"How…how did you get this?" he whispers.

Kay shrugs. "One must be cunning and wicked in this world," she teases lightly. "Now, if you'll excuse me—" She turns to leave, but Apollo's hand shoots out to grab her arm and spin her back around.

"Have we met before? Who are you?" the young attorney demands.

"Maybe," she answers vaguely, still grinning, "but maybe not." She pulls out one of her cards from her pocket and offers it. "Here's my card."

Apollo lets go of her to take it, and takes his eyes off of her to look at it. He's seen this card before, in case files that he studied extensively. Of a defense attorney who turned out to be a fake and a murderer, and the prosecutor she murdered. The multiple incidents involving a thief who didn't steal worldly goods.

A thief of the truth.

"Wait, you're—_you're_ the Yatagarasu?!" He snaps his head up so quick that he could have given himself whiplash, but by the time he does, she's already gone.

He runs out into the hallway and looks down to both ends. The window at the left end is open, giving full access to the fire escape. Apollo rubs the top of his head and lets out a sigh. He has what he needs…but how is he supposed to explain how he got it? 'The Yatagarasu stole it' isn't exactly the best excuse. The judge may have heard a lot of crazy stories, but this one might top the list.

Kay makes her way all the way down the fire escape, and begins to hurry down the alley when she hears her name being called, albeit not very loudly. They don't want to give her away to Apollo just yet. When she looks up, she sees the faces of both Phoenix and Trucy Wright in the Anything Agency's window.

"Thanks," Phoenix says, a relieved, thankful smile gracing his features. He'd almost look like his old self if not for the stubble and the hat.

Kay smiles back, leaning on her heels. "Just get him for me, and we'll be even," she responds.

Trucy waves to her. "You should come see the trial tomorrow!" she suggests excitedly.

"I'll see what I can do," she answers, before taking off down the alley.

She does show up for the trial the next day, with the ticket she had gotten when it was first announced. Sure, she could've just said she was coming, but what was the fun in that? As the Great Thief, she had to be mysterious and sneaky every once in a while.

Plus, it somehow made it twice as satisfying when Kristoph Gavin spotted her.

Those once-condescending eyes were much more fearful then.

But the best part was, he couldn't prove a thing.

She would have loved to hear him say, "Your Honor, the Yatagarasu stole my murder weapon!"


End file.
